


They Say That Dreaming Is Free, But I Wouldn’t Care What It’d Cost Me

by OstarsofheavenOgrassofgraves



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Pining, Sleepovers, Tenderness, catradora, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29188596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OstarsofheavenOgrassofgraves/pseuds/OstarsofheavenOgrassofgraves
Summary: She felt a hand gently rest over her own. Adora didn’t move or make a sound. She just let Catra feel her presence for a while. Catra crouched, Adora sat, and they both waited out the minutes for punishment. For orders. For wrath.Nothing came.Adora lifted Catra’s hand to lay it on the pillow. “We’re okay,” she insisted softly, “it’s just us.”-------Growing up together, Adora and Catra rely on each other to get through nightmares--of the day and night.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Where The Lines Overlap

The nightmares started young.

The earliest ones were so eerily similar to real life, she would sometimes pinch herself in the daytime to make sure that she wasn’t actually cowering in bed. Her mind would recreate the monotonous hallways. The conjured up floor would be cold beneath her bare feet. She would find herself running.

Always running from something. Or someone. 

Electricity would crackle in the air. Shadows would crawl up through the vent shafts, coiling around her ankles and wrists. She would bury her claws in metal and cry, demanding the darkness to release her. The shadows wouldn’t listen. No one would be there to hear her scream.

So it seemed. 

  
“C-Catra?” 

She bolted upright from the cot, gasping for breath as though she had been sprinting. In the dream, she had been sprinting—out of the Fright Zone, as fast as her limbs could take her. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she recognized the bunk room around her, the frantic beating in her chest slowed. 

“Yeah?” She heard herself croak out. Her throat was hoarse. “Did… did I scream?” 

“Huh?” Adora stood on her toes to peek over the edge of the top bunk and make eye contact with Catra. “No, no… But I thought I heard you tear the sheets.”

Her claws were buried in cotton and canvas. Catra unclenched her fingers slowly, feeling the fabric rip further as she retracted her nails. “Sorry for waking you,” she grumbled.

A few seconds passed. Then Adora whispered back, “You don’t need to be sorry.” 

Catra bit her lip as silence settled over the room again. She wasn’t ready to go back to sleep, to let the scenes in her head resume. She hugged herself tightly, shaking in place as the darkness crept back into her field of vision. 

“Wanna play a game?” 

And with that, the filamentous shadows retreated. Puzzled as to what a “game” could be at this time of night, Catra leaned over the side of the top bunk to find Adora sitting against the wall with a pillow in her lap. She patted the pillow expectantly, gesturing for her friend to join her. 

The dream was still fresh enough to keep her alert. Catra rotated her ears in an effort to detect any distant sound of a senior cadet—or worse—coming to check on the youth squadron in their beds. Her shoulders relaxed slightly when she realized the only sound she could pick up was Rogelio’s snoring from a few bunks away.   
  
Catra hopped down and crawled up on all fours beside Adora. Adora nodded towards the pillow. “You can put your head here and I’ll draw on your back,” Adora explained.

“But what’s the game?”

Adora flashed a gap-toothed grin. “You have to guess what I’m drawing.”

A sudden metallic ping within the pipes above them sent a shiver through Catra. Her hair stood up on end from the crown of her head to the tip of her tail. Fear tightened its grip around her wind pipe once again, making every breath strained and desperate.  
  
Then she felt a hand gently rest over her own. Adora didn’t move or make a sound. She just let Catra feel her presence for a while. Catra crouched, Adora sat, and they both waited out the minutes for punishment. For orders. For wrath. 

Nothing came.

Adora lifted Catra’s hand to lay it on the pillow. “We’re okay,” she insisted softly, “it’s just us.”

With her eyes flicking around for any disturbance, Catra _knew_ that wasn’t true—but it _felt_ true. So she gingerly kneaded at the pillow for a few moments, then finally let her head fall down into Adora’s lap. 

“Can you reach my back like this?” Catra mumbled. 

Adora giggled slightly as she combed her fingers through Catra’s hair down to the base of Catra’s neck, answering with a barely audible, “mhm.” 

At first, Adora left her hand just between Catra’s shoulder blades. Squeezing her eyes shut, Catra could visualize that hand—the tiny palm and long fingers. Catra had almost memorized the lines on it, having traced them in pen so often in stolen moments of class. Catra thought of these lines whenever her mind drifted during geography lessons. If Adora’s hand were a map, the overlapping exes at the base of her thumb would mark a jagged cliffside. The arc that started just below her index finger would be a river, branching into a delta at the wrist. The two lines that ran across Adora’s palm, curving towards each other but never meeting, troubled Catra for some reason. She thought they should join right at the center of Adora’s hand, but a gap of pink skin kept them apart. Whenever given the chance, Catra fixed the problem by bridging the distance with a sketched star in black ink. 

Slowly, Adora removed all but a finger from Catra’s back. She swirled shapes in the worn pink cloth of Catra’s shirt, pausing back where she began the drawing, making an extra little flourish as she pulled away. Catra missed the feeling immediately.

“There. Guess!”

“I don’t know… a bot?”

The hand returned, rubbing congratulations along her spine. “Yeah, you got it!” 

Catra stifled a laugh as Adora “erased” the drawing, clearing the canvas of her back for the next round.   
  
“That one felt like a shoe.”

“But what kind of shoe?”

“Your shoe!” 

As the game wore on, Catra sunk deeper into Adora’s lap, tucking her knees to her chest and pulling the blanket over Adora’s legs and up to her chin. The space around her was warm and soft in a way the Fright Zone had never been before. Their own voices grew quieter with each question and answer, Catra’s words becoming slurred by slumber. 

The last drawing she remembered before falling asleep entirely was a simple one, but it was undoubtedly her favorite. 

Adora looped her index finger down and around the length of Catra’s back to form two curves, joined at Catra’s spine. “What’s this one?” she whispered close to Catra’s ear. 

Smiling, Catra turned her head slightly to glance up at Adora. Barely withholding a yawn, Catra responded, “It’s a heart, dummy.”

Adora returned her smile, nodding slightly and repeating the drawing over and over. “Yeah. I tried to make it as big as yours, but I don’t think it’d fit.” 

Catra snorted and pressed her face back down into the pillow. Her eyelids grew heavy and her mind turned blank, but not dark. Even as she herself drifted off, Adora’s hand kept moving, making the same shape until she slumped into unconsciousness. 


	2. Living in a City of Sleepless People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra could list off all the things Adora had done right until dawn, but she knew it wouldn’t help. At times like this, Adora was far past the point of reason, and even with a clear head and a full night’s sleep, she would always blame herself for anything and everything. Catra sighed as she pulled Adora into an embrace, tugging at and draping the blanket around her own shoulders onto Adora’s. “You’re going to count with me, okay?”  
> \----  
> Adora has her own nightmares to battle, but Catra is there to help her through it.

**Chapter 2: Living in a City Full of Sleepless People**

It usually started with pacing. 

Socks padding up and down an otherwise empty hallway. Knuckles popping, one finger at a time and then all at once. Incomprehensible but vehement monologuing. 

Catra groggily rose from the bottom bunk, pulling the abandoned blanket around her shoulders. If she was going to traipse around the Fright Zone in the middle of the night to find Adora, she was going to stay warm while doing it. 

“Couldn’t have made it too far,” Catra thought sleepily, peering down the line of doors to the other bunk rooms. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to leave the barracks to wrangle Adora back into bed, but there was still no sign of her friend. 

“C’mon, Adora, where are you,” she groaned under her breath, slinking close to the walls in case she would have to duck around a corner or leap up into the rafters at a moment’s notice. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when she caught a glimpse of a ray of light emanating from an unmarked door; she quickened her steps past it, as she had never been caught by a curfew patrol yet and she had no intention of ruining her streak tonight. 

Locker room? Empty. Cafeteria? Also empty. It usually only took five minutes—ten, tops—to find Adora on nights like this, but Catra had now been searching for a half hour. Stopping in the corridor between the tactical classrooms and the simulation arena, Catra’s eyes widened and her heart raced. The susurration of thoughts in the back of her mind started to coalesce until she could hear one voice, a voice she recognized from all her daytime torments and all her nightmares. Like a serpent coiled within her skull, the voice hissed, “What if she left you?”

Catra whipped her head around, expecting to see Shadow Weaver looming over her. Instead, all she saw was the long abandoned passage to the janitorial facilities. Stalking down the hall, Catra felt her claws prick into the skin of her elbows as she hugged her arms tightly into her chest. The sharpness grounded her, reminded her of what she knew. 

Adora’s whole life started and ended with the Horde. She would never leave the Fright Zone. And that meant she would never leave Catra. 

Catra dug her nails even deeper into her flesh to emphasize the point, banishing the seething voice of her fears and doubts. 

Passing by a closet, Catra’s ear twitched at a subtle but repetitive sound. 

No, Adora wouldn’t leave her. 

Catra pressed her palm to the closet door and pushed.

No, Adora hadn’t left her. She was in this cramped storage room, lifting up boxes from one corner, walking a few feet, and then stacking the boxes in the opposite corner—all while quietly berating herself. 

Adora made no acknowledgement of Catra’s entrance. She continued apace, building up a tower and tearing herself down. “If I had just noticed the bot at the other end of the line, then I could have told Lonnie to jump out of the way in time, and that would’ve meant—”

“Adora.” 

“—that she wouldn’t have twisted her ankle and she could’ve stayed in the scrimmage—”

“Adora.”

“—and we would’ve had enough—”

Catra blocked her path with her body. “ _Enough_ , Adora!”

Adora marched right into her, dropping the box in her hands and falling on top of Catra. The collision finally seemed to knock Adora out of her spiral—and almost knocked the wind out of Catra. 

“Catra, I’m so sorry!” 

Pinned to the ground, regaining her breath, Catra couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, Adora would apologize while in the middle of an anxiety attack. “It’s alright, this is only—what—the third time you’ve knocked me out today? Sheesh, I thought you had your fill of sparring this morning…” Catra trailed off when she gazed up into Adora’s face. Fresh tears streamed down her pale cheeks and dripped onto Catra’s chin. 

“No, Catra, I’m sorry! It’s all my fault Shadow Weaver yelled at you today.”

Catra rolled her eyes and turned her head to stare at the wooden crate a few inches from her face. “Seems unlikely, she yells at me every day for all sorts of things.” She reached out to poke at the grain of the wood with the tip of a claw, scratching down the panel with just enough force to carve a jagged line into the side of the box. She would have kept idly carving up the crate had Adora not grabbed her hand. 

“It was my fault, Catra!” Adora sobbed, pulling Catra’s hand to her chest. Catra had seen all of Adora’s attacks so far and none had been this intense in a while. Adora’s breaths were short and shallow, her face damp and drained of color. “If I had actually been paying any attention, we would’ve had enough players to finish the challenge.”

Catra propped herself up on one hand to meet Adora at eye level. Adora wouldn’t look back at her but kept a tight grip on her other hand, holding it close. 

“Look,” Catra started, but she didn’t know how to finish that thought. She could list off all the things Adora had done right until dawn, but she knew it wouldn’t help. At times like this, Adora was far past the point of reason, and even with a clear head and a full night’s sleep, she would always blame herself for anything and everything. Catra sighed as she pulled Adora into an embrace, tugging at and draping the blanket around her own shoulders onto Adora’s. “You’re going to count with me, okay?”

“I—” Adora stilled at first, but she slowly nodded her head against Catra’s. Letting out a ragged exhale, she nodded again to signal that she was ready to try. 

“Good,” Catra praised her, “what’s one thing you see?”

Adora maintained her grip on Catra’s hand at her chest. Catra could feel Adora’s frantic heart hammering away. 

“The label on that package.” Adora finally responded.

Catra snorted. “What’s the label say, genius?” 

Adora squinted through the tears. “‘Do not open with sharp object.’”  
  
“Oh, we should definitely open that. With a sharp object.” 

Catra adjusted her hand within Adora’s so their fingers could lace together. 

“Now, what are two things you smell?”

After a few seconds’ pause, Adora sniffled. “Can’t really smell much—what with all the mucus.”

Catra made an exaggerated grimace so Adora could feel the expression on her cheek. “Gross, but thanks for sharing.” Adora managed to laugh slightly. “What do you think you would smell?” 

“Hmm. Cardboard,” Adora leaned more weight into Catra, pressing her face into Catra’s hair, “and the blue soap you have stashed in your locker.”

Catra hummed, visualizing in detail their lockers side by side. Everything inside Adora’s was neatly placed, whereas contraband soaps, towels, and brushes would often avalanche out of Catra’s locker upon opening the door. Every time, without fail, Adora would half-heartedly chide Catra for hoarding these items, but would ultimately help gather them up from the floor and stow them back inside. 

“Remind me to swipe some more later. Okay, three things you hear.” 

The question seemed to make Adora wince. “Does my heartbeat count as all three, because that’s all I can hear.” She rested her chin over Catra’s shoulder, releasing another shuddering breath. “Besides your voice.” 

Every point of contact between their bodies seemed to radiate warmth. Catra inched even closer, seeking out more of that soothing touch. “Well, we can put your wheezing down as number three.” 

A hiccuped giggle shook Adora, causing her to giggle even more. The sound was so sweet and pure, Catra wished she had the means to record it and play it on loop. That sound was a treasured part of her childhood and a soundtrack to her daydreams. 

“Last round: name four things you feel.”

Shakily, but determined, Adora inhaled deeply through her nostrils, held the breath in her lungs, then exhaled. The stream of air from her lips breezed through Catra’s ear tuft. Catra released her own unsteady breath, shivering at the sensation. Adora didn’t seem to notice. 

Between their chests, Catra felt Adora’s grasp loosen and tighten again. “One, your hand in mine.” Another cycle of breaths. She continued, rolling her chin from side to side: “Two, the point of your shoulder.” 

As Adora’s heartbeat gradually slowed, her panic subsiding with each observation, Catra worried that her own heartbeat was accelerating. Every word Adora said made heat rush to Catra’s cheeks as she too focused on the things she could feel. Adora—all she was aware of outside her own body was Adora. Adora. Adora. 

“Three, your hair tickling my face.” She thought of combing her fingers through Adora’s honey-colored hair. “Four,” Adora whispered, tilting her head to meet Catra’s face, “your cheek on my cheek.” She thought of turning just enough to leave a peck on the soft skin of Adora’s face. 

That was the last round, but Catra was eager to add another. “Five,” she imagined saying, “tell me five things my lips taste like.” 

The fantasy remained a fantasy. For the moment, Catra found contentment in Adora’s embrace, in Adora’s now calm breaths. “Ready for bed?” she asked softly. 

Adora tensed in Catra’s arms. “I…” She paused to sigh. “I don’t know if I want to go back to sleep.”

Catra took a risk and moved her free hand to the back of Adora’s head. “I get it,” she mumbled, letting her fingers slowly fall through the strands of Adora’s ponytail. Then she got an idea. 

Carefully rising out of their hug, Catra gently tugged on Adora’s hand in hers. “C’mon,” she encouraged, helping Adora to her feet, “You don’t have to sleep yet.” 

They snuck back to their bunks as cautiously as they could manage. Adora’s eyes were unfocused, looking up ahead but seeing nothing in the dark hallways. Catra took pride in seeing for both of them—and in seeing Adora’s hand still clasped in hers as they found their way to their beds. 

Sitting down at the head of Adora’s cot, Catra gestured for Adora to sit in her lap. Adora drooped down between her legs immediately. 

Taking a deep breath, Catra pulled the elastic out of Adora’s hair. She ran the tips of her claws over Adora’s scalp, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she did so. Adora hummed softly through her nose, and Catra took that as the encouragement she needed to keep going. Brushing Adora’s fine hair with her fingers, Catra started to gather up and twist little segments.

“What’re you doing?” Adora whispered.

Catra shushed her, but smiled. Adora didn’t ask again. Rather, she sank deeper into Catra’s lap, getting closer and closer to the verge of sleep as Catra continued to braid her hair. 

When Adora opened her eyes, no one else in the room was awake. She glanced at the red and black clock on the far wall and groggily calculated that there were still two hours till roll call. 

Shifting her weight, she heard Catra murmur beneath her. The pair had fallen asleep against the wall of the bunk, Adora’s head against Catra’s chest. Adora smiled to herself, feeling safe and warm with Catra’s arm draped over her shoulder. 

Feeling herself drifting off again, Adora nudged her head against Catra’s arm and breathed, “Thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once, a friend at work helped me through a panic attack in the exact same way Catra does for Adora in this chapter, and that act of patience and support remains one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me. 
> 
> I never really had casual physical intimacy with any of my friends growing up, and I always wonder what that meant to me then and what it means for me now. In contrast, the show implies that Catra and Adora were physically close to each other all the time. What would it feel like to be able to hold your friend's hand even when you knew you had feelings for her? I want to explore how that touch could mean different things to Catra and Adora as they were growing up and then growing apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fic!
> 
> This story will have multiple chapters examining how Adora and Catra supported each other throughout the years, both pre- and post-canon. Since dreams play a prominent role in both characters' stories throughout the show, I started imagining how processing and coping with nightmares could have brought the pair together.


End file.
